Bits and Pieces
by dustywalker
Summary: Little one-shots, focusing on background characters during certain scenes. Second chapter, Isolde and Connor pre-game.
1. Too much alike

"Make way!" the frowning man barked, shoving his way past Gamlen and the nervous City Guard. After a moment, Brennan knocked on the open door.

"Guard-Captain? You have… a guest."

Aveline looked up with her own short-lived scowl. "Gamlen" she muttered, as it slightly returned. "… Thank you, Guardswoman. Send him in."

"Well, that all sounded fun" Gamlen coughed, taking one of the seats.

"Just the Seneschal, puffing up his chest" she replied, dropping into her own chair.

"He has to look busy, somehow… so, nice office you have. You've done better than I ever expected."

Biting her tongue at the remark, Aveline sighed. "I'm not done yet. Still a long way to fixing Jeven's damage… it keeps me quite busy, as you can see."

"Right."

"… So if there's nothing else?"

'Better make it quick, before she drags me out' Gamlen thought, noticing her impatient expression. "Right... speaking of him, how are you going with rooting out his cronies?"

"Slowly. I haven't the manpower to _retire_ all of them, so I'm turning a blind eye to the ones who were turning blind eyes. Just replacing the ones who were definitely involved… and even that's left holes in the roster."

"So… you'll be hiring?" Gamlen tried to casually ask.

Aveline's frown returned in force. "… Oh no, don't you start as well! I already heard this from Carver, and Leandra."

"I'm merely asking-"

"I _know_ what you're going to ask."

"If you were moving the auxiliary guards up to full status, to fill the holes" he quickly got out, as she went to stand.

Momentarily stunned, she sat down. "I'm considering them…"

Gamlen nodded. "Thought you'd have to… so, when you're done, stick the boy in the auxiliary vacancies and see if he works out."

"Gamlen…"

"Rather simple, I'd say."

"He's not guard material."

"They said the same about you" Gamlen answered, gesturing around the office. "Look where you are now… thanks to his help. Hell, one of your men out there has his arm in a sling, so you're clearly undermanned."

"Donnic has been cleared to return for light duties… that's not the point. Why are _you_ pushing this?" she asked, fixing Gamlen with a stare. "Especially when, last I heard, he'd found some work."

"Re-digging the Pit mines, for that Orlesian fop? For starters, it won't last beyond a few months… well, you really think Leandra's happy having her last child stuck underground? After what happened to her other boy, down there… and when there's a chance they'll wake up another dragon."

"… It's not my concern. I've told him repeatedly, he could be an apprentice."

"For who? With so many refugees from your country still here, all the worth-while jobs are filled for years to come. Even if they weren't… well, haven't you been listening to the Lowtown gossip?"

"Should I?" she asked in exasperation.

"If you want to last, in this office. Isn't gossip how you got here in the first place?"

"… Out with it, then."

"That Rivaini tart you all seem to know" he began, stopping as he heard Aveline's jaw audibly click.

"… I already know this _won't_ be good."

"Well, seems she found it hilarious when Carver got booted from an expedition he helped pay for. So she's been up and down the docks, spreading it" he stopped again, as the Guard-Captain made a grunt of bitter amusement. "She's also fond of the other part of the story, where he's saved your life more than once and even you think he's too useless to hire. 'Not even the Guard-Captain wants him, despite the lack of men under her… _or_ her shortage of guards!' is how her jokes go, from what I heard from Smetty, who runs the fishworks. We tried there, but thanks to her, he's supposedly unfit even to gut fish. Hell, _I_ went to ask Athenril and Meeran again. He's still got a grudge that they turned him down, and she'll only take the two of them back. 'Got enough dumb muscle, your brother had the _skills_ I want.'" Tapping two fingers on her desk, Gamlen waved his other hand in defeat. "If you know anyone willing to hire him, we'd love to hear it."

Getting up, he shrugged. "Look… I'll try talking to Leandra about them going back to Ferelden again. She keeps saying 'maybe Bartrand was wrong, and he'll come back to us', but I think she knows… she just hasn't accepted it yet. Even if you just _tell_ her you'll consider it, in the meantime? I'll leave you to it, Captain."

"… Gamlen? I'll see how the auxiliary stands in a month. No promises."

"Just let us know" he nodded.

"… And send Brennan back in, please?"

"Who?"

"The one who showed you in… I know a certain slattern who needs a night in a cell, since she's disparaging the City Guard."

* * *

"Same again, _gentlemen_?" Quintus asked, with his usual tone reserved for customers who weren't paying for one of the Rose's staff

'Better buy some more drinks, before we get walked out.' "How about it, boy?" Gamlen muttered, poking his nephew while fishing out some coin. "I believe it's my round."

Draining the mug he'd been absently nursing, Carver shrugged. "Sure… cheers, Gamlen."

The older man nodded "… Cheers." 'Still in his mood… if I had the money, I'd buy him one of the girls.' "Try to drink _this_ one while it's fresh."

"Right" his nephew replied vacantly.

"Too used to that watered-down swill at the Hanged Man, are you?" Gamlen asked. "A few more actual drinks will fix that."

"I'm trying… guess I got in the habit of squeezing in the cheap stuff, to get more for what little coin Athenril paid us."

'We'd get cheap drinks here too, if Lusine had agreed to hire you. _Doesn't smile enough, for our clientele_ she said when I asked… I guess she has a point.' "You get what you pay for, I find" Gamlen frowned. "Plus, better company… we may be down in the world, but we don't have to lower ourselves into the riff-raff crowd."

"… Damn it, Garrett. You should have let me help you" Carver muttered out loud, pushing his mug from side to side. "Now what we supposed to do?"

Gamlen glanced back, noticing the dank smell of Darktown before the new arrival could speak. "Carver, Gamlen… well, I heard the news. I wanted to give my regrets."

'So you bloody should… what kind of Warden lets people go down there by themselves?' Gamlen wondered, staring at the blonde Mage.

Shaking his head, Carver turned around. "Yeah, thanks Anders."

"If you ne-" Anders trailed off, before taking another seat and hunching over the bar.

"Relax" Carver said, realising Anders had spotted the Templar on the balcony. "They're just finishing up their investigation into that mess we found, about the blood-mage girl who worked here."

"Of course…" Anders breathed, trying to keep himself calm.

Carver noticed his face, and quickly leant over to whisper "… Look, I'll come by the clinic, whenever I'm up to talking about it… but you should probably go anyway, in case your _friend_ shows up and wants to play."

Watching Anders leave, Gamlen frowned. "You let him off easy… he could have done something, being a Warden. He just didn't want to get stuck underground with those two Elves… even _I_ know he hated both of them."

"… Garrett left him behind, same as me. Said he'd do more good by staying at the clinic." Carver finally reached for another drink. "Wait, are these ones even ours?"

Quintus nodded, to another new arrival behind them. "She's paid a tab for you."

"I also tried paying him, to say sorry for me, because I'm bad at these things... but he told me I had to do that" Isabela awkwardly announced, patting Gamlen and Carver on their shoulders. "So… if I were to say something… Maker, look… I'm sorry?"

"Thanks…"

"It's a shame… another shame, I mean, that Man-Hands couldn't keep Bartrand from leaving. I wanted to wring answers out of him myself, when I heard. Poor Kitten…."

Carver exhaled, and raised the mug in a salute. "Merrill…"

"Did Aveline get _anything_ out of him, at least?" Isabela asked.

"He said he _couldn't_ wait – the expedition had already been behind schedule, and he had to meet his contacts in Tantervale. He'll be back to help arrange… funerals, according to a note he left with her for me."

"Tantervale, huh?" Isabela replied. "If he doesn't, I know people in Tantervale. Sticky fingered people."

Carver groaned. "I'm sure he'll keep his word. Maybe not the 'pay you Garrett's share of profits' part, but he's not the kind of arsehole who'd skip his own brother's funeral."

"True… well, again. Sorry, and all that. I better go, I think Man-Hands has her people out to bring me in… I haven't even done anything yet!" She gave a forced smile, and left.

After they turned back to their drinks, Gamlen stared ahead for a moment. "… You and the tattoo-face girl, then?"

"If only… no. No."

"… I liked her. She was always a polite little thing, whenever she turned up at the house. Usually to ask how to get back to the Alienage. She wasn't interested?"

"I don't know. I never found the nerve to ask, before they left."

"Ah." Gamlen sipped at his drink, trying to ignore the flash of curled brown hair in his mind's eye.

"What?" Carver asked, looking over.

'Mara.' "… A story for another time" Gamlen answered, snapping back to the conversation. 'Too much like me...' "Maybe I'll tell you, one day. Now, though… look. Get out of this city while you still can. You're still young enough to do anything, out there."

"That was the plan, once we'd made our coin… but I don't think Mother will leave. I've got her to think about and look after, you know?"

Gamlen nodded, sadly. "I know far too well. Just don't let that be _all_ you do. Or one day you'll wake up, wondering where it all went… this city will suck your life away if you let it. Trust me…"

Carver's jaw set, as he looked up and over his shoulder. "… Ser Maurevar" he mumbled.

"Cirma what?" Gamlen asked in confusion, before following his nephew's gaze to a curly-haired Templar. "… If you're thinking **that** , be bloody sure first. It's not something you can just walk away from."

"We're out of options…" was Carver's only reply, as he walked over to the base of the stairs. "Excuse me, Knight-Captain? Could I… ask you a couple of questions?"

'Looks like he recognises Carver… I don't know if that's good or bad.' Gamlen watched, as the two younger men sat at a table to talk. 'I do know this… I'm sure not going to be the one who tells Leandra.'

* * *

 _ **I've got a few more in mind, but open to suggestions. Expect sporadic updates, like everything I do.**_


	2. A short time

_**The 'Isolde asks Loghain for help, and doesn't blink when he**_ **does _send someone' plot-point has always been one of those things I didn't see working. She picked him just because he dislikes the Chantry? There's a Mage's Collective member in Redcliffe, so she apparently didn't try very hard at seeking out options. So I started thinking about 'why' and came up with this._**

* * *

Isolde waited for Connor to stop squirming, before pulling the bed-covers up. "Mother?" he asked, as she stood.

"Yes?"

"Will Father be back soon?"

"Unless the King needs him further." _'Or he pushes whatever led to their last argument.'_

"I hope not... everybody seems to be leaving" he complained.

"Your previous teachers were inadequate, like I told you... I'll find you a better one, you'll see."

"But why?"

Hoping to cut off further questions, she forced a smile. "How about a story?"

"... Alright. Will you tell me about the sad lady?"

"What sad lady?"

"The picture you have in your parlor room. She looks sad about things."

She inhaled, and rubbed her hands. "... She was a friend of mine, once. A long time ago."

"I asked Father, but he didn't seem to care."

 _'No, of course he didn't.'_ "If you want to hear, I'll tell you?" she offered, sitting back down. He nodded, and sat up against his pillows.

"It started a year or so after your father and I had married... we had to travel to Denerim."

* * *

"This way, my Lord; I'm to bring you to see them" the attendant motioned.

"I'll have to speak with Maric first" Eamon had said, before he and Teagan left her in the empty Great Hall. Trying to ignore the pointed stares and refusals to look in her direction from the guards, Isolde glanced about to take stock of the room. With feigned politeness, a second attendant approached. "... Perhaps you would like to wait with her?" she gestured, causing Isolde to turn and see a blonde woman. Sitting on a bench by the wall, she hesitantly looked up at Isolde and motioned for her to approach.

"You must be new... I don't remember you ever sneering at me, when I used to attend gatherings" she noted, once Isolde joined her. Making no reply, she continued studying the seated woman. "Pardon my candour. I'm just used to being the only one who doesn't belong in this building. I... assume your father wasn't a _commoner_ , though?"

"No" Isolde finally answered, surprised by her brazenness. "Just the opposite..."

"Ah, the accent... you must be the wife of this Eamon I kept hearing about."

"You mustn't have heard a great deal, if you're still talking to me" Isolde bitterly replied.

"Just that the nobles apparently hate you even more than me... and my husband's thoughts on your marriage."

"You have me at a loss... _who_ is your husband?"

"Teryn Loghain – so I'm the scandalous peasant wife of his you probably heard about." Moving aside, the blonde woman patted the bench. "Or maybe you aren't invited to _gossip_ with the others. Call me Celia, then. We may as well talk while we're waiting."

"I... wouldn't know where to begin" Isolde admitted, taking a seat.

"I hear Redcliffe has a nice lake... how's the fishing?"

"I've never..." she mumbled, swallowing her comment about _'a worker's hobby'_.

"No? Oh well..." Celia glanced at the inner doors. "Given why we're here... perhaps... How well do you know the Queen?"

"... We've only met a handful of times. As you might guess, she had little approval for her brother's campaigning about our marriage."

Celia remained silent for a moment. "Fair enough... I only know enough about her to cause the one conversation we tried having to end in uncomfortable silence."

After the imagined stares from the hall's rough Mabari carvings unnerved her, Isolde cleared her throat. "... You... mentioned your father?"

"I did... he would have enjoyed this room, all these carvings. We could debate the styles, and influences – and how he would have designed it."

"I didn't know wood-workers were so competitive."

"Then you haven't known many of them" Celia replied dismissively.

"... I think... well, I hear blacksmiths are. From what my maid sometimes mentions of.. her husband" Isolde added feebly, wondering if she'd caused offense.

Not noticing, Celia continued appraising the hall. "Of course, my daughter always complains about this room being too gloomy. I think she'll order work on it, when she has her way."

"She is not with you, today?"

"We thought it best not to bring Anora until we knew more... thankfully, Teyrna Eleanor agreed to take her for the day. Do you have children?"

"... No, not yet... we've tried. But-" Celia silenced her by covering her hands with a warm palm, and an understanding expression.

"... I'm sorry."

* * *

Realising where the story was heading, Isolde steeled herself, and decided to skip ahead. "We spoke of quite a few things, before anyone finally rejoined us. The Teyrn emerged first" ' _With a dirty scowl, when he caught onto my identity'_ "and they soon left. Your father and uncle were not far behind. They were quite shaken by how your Aunt's health had faded in the short time since we were summoned to Denerim, and decided to stay until... we knew more."

"I … didn't meet her, did I? My auntie?" Connor asked, tugging her hand.

"I'm afraid not, Connor..." she answered gently, rubbing his fingers when his face sunk.

"... What else happened?" he finally spoke, glumly.

"Most days, Celia and I would spend time together while everyone was at the Castle. Even when news began to spread, and the other Families began arriving. That's how I first met Anora, before she was the Queen."

"Father says she doesn't like us... that's why only he goes to court."

 _'I can guess who she has a bad impression of, and it's not the two who stay here'_ "Your father ...over-simplifies. Connor. Anora gave me that painting of her mother, after all."

Trying to hide his yawn, Connor shifted. "... What happened next?"

Pushing him back down the bed, Isolde smiled. "I'll tell you another time. Now, off to sleep."

* * *

Arriving in her parlor, Isolde sat at the small desk. Opening the first hand-carved box she had retrieved, the Arlessa began taking out old letters. With a glance at the painting on an otherwise bare wall, she started flicking through them.

 _Our deepest, sincerest condolences. I've been praying since I heard – and I'm sure you'll all be happy, when He does see fit to bless your family._

 _Celia._

 _My dear friend, you must ignore their vile gossip. You've always said how happy you make each other. Eamon didn't battle opinion and his own sister for so long, to merely put you aside over ignorant claims concerning your vitality. Trust me, you'll never see him entertain notions such as that._

 _Celia._

 _Isolde, I agree that Eamon's refusal to speak about this boy's origins is peculiar, but I fear you may be too quick to make your assumption. There are a lot of other possibilities, remember. To be honest, Loghain would have been the first to sneer and confirm any scandal about your husband; when I asked, he admitted he'd never heard suggestion Eamon had been... tempted, and agrees that perhaps the boy_ _ **is**_ _merely a foundling. As for the behaviour, he sounds like most children of that age. Maybe some guidance from you would help him to settle, until he's old enough to know better._

 _Celia._

 _Please, you must stop torturing yourself with suspicions. You mentioned Bann Teagan spends a great deal of time with the boy... perhaps there's a reason why. I understand there is gossip about his carefree ways, and continued bachelorhood, whereas none exist about your husband. This would explain Eamon's insistence on keeping the boy close. He also has made no effort to claim him, as you said... when, and I still have every hope and confidence for you, have a child, it's quite clear they have nothing to fear from the boy. I'm not entirely sure if he has a name, despite all the writing you've done about him. I jest, of course... Perhaps you need some time away from Redcliffe – you must come visit Gwaren, when weather permits. I could certainly do with the company, now Anora spends so much time at Denerim._

 _Celia._

 _You don't need to apologise for cancelling, the weather is quite miserable in the south as well. Perhaps we'll be able to talk in person again... I think I may be able to attend the next Landsmeet._

 _I'm slowly whittling Loghain down on the fact we need to begin some actual discussion with the King about a wedding – if I leave things to those two men, I fear none of us will actually see Cailan and Anora marry. Even if I don't succeed by then, we'll finally get to spend time together at this eventual ceremony. It's been far too long._

 _See you soon – Celia._

Sighing, Isolde slid the selected papers back into the pile, and glanced at the painting. _'If only things had worked out as such... you would have been proud of your daughter, and Connor would have loved you, I think.'_

* * *

Sitting by herself, Isolde glanced around the empty hall. The nobles who had even bothered attending were all gone by now, and Eamon had taken Loghain's invitation for Maric and Cailan to come to his study as a cue to leave. A polite cough drew her attention, and she noticed Anora standing in one of the side doorways. "I'd... like to speak with you, before you go."

Silently following, Isolde soon found herself in a back hallway. Leading the way into one of the rooms, Anora motioned to the table. "I want to thank you for actually coming... you'd never know that ... well, my thanks for coming."

"Your mother deserved nothing less" Isolde replied, sadly.

"Too bad so few people thought so" Anora answered, still visibly furious. "She wanted you to have something, if you're wondering why I asked you to stay." A curt nod made a servant enter, carrying a large painting. "She had two of these made, years ago. I'm keeping one here, but this" she paused as the servant carefully laid it on the table, "is the other. I can have it delivered to your estate tomorrow."

Staring at the portrait of her friend, Isolde struggled for words. "I... if you're sure? I don't know if I-"

"Please do... it's what she wanted. It would be a shame to return it to Gwaren, where only the Seneschal would see it" Anora said, calmly signalling the servant to leave. When Isolde made no argument, she stood. "There is one further matter, if you'll wait a little longer." She nodded, and Anora exited the room. Faintly hearing a knock on a door further up the hallway, and then a brief exchange of argumentive whispers, Isolde looked up at the sound of returning footsteps to see Teyrn Loghain enter the room.

Rolling his eyes as Anora stood to casually block the door, he sat on one of the chairs. "... I was well aware of your correspodence with my wife. No matter how often I tried to discourage it." After taking a breathe, he tapped the table. "But today's not the day for that... and I want to thank you. She didn't have many friends, by the time... well, just remember what I wrote you." Lacking anything else to say, he raised an eyebrow at his daughter before she let him pass. "The painting should have been enough" he muttered, exiting the room.

"High gratitude, for him" Anora coldly exhaled, while Isolde tried to still her discomforted squirm.

* * *

Opening the other box, a twin of the first, she found the Teryn's faded, scratchy letter on top.

 _Lad- Arle- Lady Isolde._

 _As you will have heard by now, Celia's illness worsened quickly. While sorting her effects, a collection of the correspodence you sent her was found. After som- I've decided to return these to you. My da- we hope to see you, at the date given on the notices we've already sent. I sho- my thanks for being a friend to her, when so many weren't. I - If there's ever something I can do in return, I suppose I should offer to do so._

 _LMT._

Not wanting to have Eamon use the crude, sloppy draft the Teryn had evidently forced himself to even send as ammunition in a future argument, Isolde had never mentioned this letter to anyone. She suspected Loghain had avoided dictating the letter so nobody would know of it, as well.

With a heavy sigh, she looked up at Celia's portait. _'I hoped never to use her as currency, by invoking this... but Eamon's already said he'll replace the tutors if I don't soon. I have to do something, for Connor.'_ Taking a scroll, Isolde lifted a quill.

 _Teryn Loghain._

 _You once offered to help me, should I ever require it._ Pausing, she stared once more at the painting, before continuing to write.


End file.
